Truly, Madly, Deeply, I am
by Jetshinsei
Summary: Foolishly, completely falling on the coldest day of the year. Seddie. Repost because of formatting issues.
**truly, madly, deeply, i am**

 **Summary: Foolishly, completely falling on the coldest day of the year. Seddie.**

 **AN: For my good pal Princess-Warrior 17! It only took me, what, three years? And it's not even what the request was, but I've never been great at staying on topic. I'm a terrible friend haha.**

Standing outside the door of the coffee shop, Freddie takes a deep breath, wincing as the freezing cold air burns his lungs. Winters in Boston are, quite possibly, the absolute worst thing he's ever had to experience. Sure, Seattle could get pretty cold, but it wasn't...this. It wasn't two feet of snow on a good day or regular threats of blizzards, and it certainly wasn't below freezing for months with no end in sight. As far as he's concerned, Jack Frost can go fuck himself.

He considers going inside where it's warm to wait for his girlfriend to finish her shift, but he still can't bring himself to watch her be miserable even after three months of trying. She only works twenty hours a week here, but he knows that she hates every single second of it.

To be more accurate she hates dealing with the types of customers that frequent the shop, but he himself isn't sure that he can take dealing with anal, overly specific soccer moms who need to have their order just right or the world is going to end and already hyperactive teenagers who're probably about five years too young to be drinking coffee anyway. The fact that she hasn't killed anyone yet is a miracle.

She'd only started working there due to the fact that he doesn't have time to take on many freelance projects thanks to his senior year workload, and worse, she has finals and her own freelance work to worry about. He feels terrible that she's working so much just to keep the both of them afloat, so he makes it a point to show up and walk her home whenever she has a shift that ends in the evening.

At first she'd been adamantly against him waiting on her to the point of violence, though unfortunately for her, it was one of the few things that he wouldn't budge on. He knows that she can probably take care of herself just fine, but he likes being the first friendly face she sees after a grueling six hours of serving overpriced coffee to people that had cash to burn on what was basically a cup of brown, hot sugar water.

He likes holding her hand and talking about mundane things like how their days went and what to have for dinner and plans for the future instead of the hard stuff like bills, school, or work, and he loves the way she rolls her eyes and groans at the jokes he makes whenever she's had an especially tough day. It's the only ten minutes of his life where the two of them are just together and not thinking about their responsibilities to the world around them.

Through the window he watches her remove her smock, walk into the backroom, and emerge a few minutes later with the red plaid backpack she's had since middle school. He's frankly amazed that it's lasted so long, especially knowing how...rough she usually is with her things; himself included.

The door to the coffee shop flies open faster than he expects, revealing a very tired looking Sam. She looks surprised to see him for a split second, but the look quickly changes to one of annoyance. "Why don't you ever come in to wait?" she sighs, frowning up at him through messy bangs and the brim of her knit cap. "You're going to sick standing out here in the cold, and you cannot afford that right now. We can't."

He shrugs like he always does when she asks. If he tells her the truth she'll just get upset with him, and the last thing he wants is to give her yet another reason to yell at him. "It's not so bad out here."

Sam stares strangely at him for another few seconds and then shakes her head, pulling her coat tighter around herself and running her hands up and down her sleeves for warmth. "You're such a nub."

Freddie shrugs again and reaches for her hand so that her cold fingers wrap themselves in his, and he can't stop himself from pulling her closer into his side because he's one hundred percent sure that she belongs there now and he still can't believe that they're here.

At the beginning of his sophomore year of college she'd shown up on his doorstep in Boston with two duffel bags and a grin, having spontaneously decided to take the rest of her courses on the Boston College campus instead of online in California like she'd done the previous year and she needed a place to crash. Their original arrangement had been that she'd only stay until she was able to find a new place since his one bedroom bachelor pad was only about the size of the iCarly studio, but things hadn't quite gone according to plan.

Three days after living under one roof they'd slept together. A week after that they'd started dating again, and a month after that they'd become exclusive, cutting all romantic ties with anyone they'd been seeing beforehand. And in retrospect he should've seen it coming because when they were together-man, they were magic. They were anger and joy and hatred and love and weakness and strength all at once. When they were together, the intellect, common sense, and level headedness that he was so proud of didn't matter against the raw energy and sharp edges that constitute Sam.

He recalls something that a guy he'd met at a party once told him-Buck, if he remembers his name correctly. He remembers him saying that he liked his girlfriend because being with her wasn't easy. It wasn't all agreements and acquiescence and rainbows and butterflies. It was fucking hard, but goddamnit if he didn't love a girl with a loud mouth and strong opinions, one who always fought back when pushed and didn't take shit from anybody even if it was him. At the time he'd thought the guy was completely insane, but after dating Sam for the better part of two and a half years, he gets it.

They fought often in the beginning, and when they did, it was ugly and nasty and words that couldn't ever be taken back were just as likely to be thrown around as easily as compliments. They forgave each other every time because they both understood that the emotions they felt for each other were so intense that they couldn't keep them bottled up.

It's why they work. They lay everything they're feeling out on the table, and then when there are no longer any secrets or misunderstandings between them, they spend a day or two licking their wounds before they're back together stronger than ever.

And that's how he knows. That's how he knows she's the one he needs, and even more than that, wants. Will ever want.

He smiles as this thought crosses his mind, earning a suspicious glare from the blonde at his side. "What?" she asks, shuffling from foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

And even though she's slouching and frowning and sniffling and her lips are slightly chapped, he's struck with the terrifying thought that she's the most beautiful person he's ever seen. He tells her this, only for her frown to deepen into a scowl as she squeezes his hand just hard enough to hurt.

"Shut up." Her words are harsh, but he sees the corners of her lips quirk upwards despite her best efforts to hide it.

He opens his mouth to argue with her and emphasize that yes, he honestly does means it, but she's already pulling him down the sidewalk towards their tiny apartment at a pace faster than her legs should be able to take her. And even though he doesn't know when or how or what the hell he's going to say to convince her, he's one hundred percent sure that he's going to marry this girl.


End file.
